


Shadows Of Fallen Leaves

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Gore, Clones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Double suicide (implied), Gore, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, No Happy Ending Fest, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28872876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jongdae smiles at Minseok with blood foaming his mouth, stares past the barrel of the gun and looks into Minseok's heart."Shoot me, my love."
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous, No Happy Ending Fest - 2020





	Shadows Of Fallen Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** self-prompt  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Xiumin/Chen  
>  **Side Characters(if any):** none  
>  **Word Count:** 1.6k  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** Character death, Blood and gore, Clones, Implied double suicide  
>  **Author's note:** This was an uphill battle to write, but I managed to capture some of the words that tried to escape. May all the love in the world go to the best beta Nat, who earnestly edited this fic and cheered me on even when I was drowning in stress, and agreed to help in these last couple days after the entire rolar coster of decisions I went through. Also, huge thanks and an apology to the mods, for understanding my woes and accepting my submission.  
> To the reader- I hope you enjoy this tiny cup of angst.

Their three-month long search ends in a bunker hidden under the soil and snow, deep into the enemy territory; a concrete dome with no means to climb down/of access except through a hatch in the roof and a retractable rope ladder.

Minseok-G23 doesn't bother with the ladder. He grabs a flashlight and jumps down through the manhole as soon as the soldiers manage to pry open the metal and concrete, bending his knees so that his bones don't rattle at the impact.

The dome feels like a grave, the air heavy with a putrid smell of rotting flesh, blood and urine. The darkness is so thick that Minseok's lungs feel constricted. He shines the flashlight on the cold walls to find a light switch. There is one, a single flipper closer to the hatch up above, and Minseok flicks it.

The dome is flooded with light so harsh that Minseok is momentarily blinded. It almost distracts him from the breathless whimper from far along the curve of the wall.

Minseok peels his eyes away to look, to search, and the will to stand almost abandons him at the sight that meets him.

The solid walls carry the sounds of soldiers above, a drilling machine firing off somewhere closer to him, much closer than he cares for, but Minseok can only hear the  _ thumpthumpthump  _ of his own heart against his ribcage, the organ pumping out squeezing pain instead of blood as he takes in the sight.

Right across him, strapped to the wall through his bones, a man is kneeling on the floor.

Blood decorates his nudity, rivers and streaks on what’s left of his body. His hair is matted with it, and it's impossible to tell where the wounds are on his bloody face. The lovely nose has chunks of missing gaps in its structure, the serified lips dripping blood from a corner now that one side of the lips are ripped wider.

There are grids carved into the concrete floor, channels of frozen and caked blood filling up the shallow lines on the ground, guided by the grids to a drain near Minseok's feet.

The lines start from the shallow depression Jongdae-W72 sits on, or rather, is crumpled on.

Instead of chains or locks and keys, the metal rods go through Jongdae's body, the restrictions much more permanent. It's as if Jongdae isn't a human, a living being, but a thing to be bolted down.

He's slumped forward, arm tugging at the restraint. It's a miracle he hasn’t toppled over, but perhaps that says more about the metal rods than the strength left in his body.

The horrid smell invades Minseok's nostrils the closer he steps to the slumped figure, more corpse than man. Vomit mixed with blood leaves a trail down his front, waste streaked down his legs. He's clearly been left here for days, unable to move. There's so much damage done to his body that it's impossible to find a spot on his beautiful skin that isn't bloody or bruised.

Is he even conscious? Minseok can't tell.

Minseok approaches his husband's clone and retrieves the pistol from his belt, fingering the trigger, knowing his duty but unable to accept it,  _ yet again _ .

Jongdae cracks open one of his eyes, the other swollen shut under a black lump of flesh. His long, beautiful lashes are clumped together with blood, and even the tear tracks on his cheek bleed with crimson.

"Shoot me."

Minseok's fingers tremble on the trigger, and tears roll down his cheeks, his breath shallow, foggy.

He stares at how Jongdae's hands are pinned to the wall in shackles, the iron bars going through his wrists in between his bones, one arm still attached to his shoulder. The other one hangs freely from the wall, nothing but a lump of dead flesh – skin rotten black and blood caked on the floor right below it. The open wound in Jongdae’s shoulder would have shown ripped tendons and broken bones if it weren't for the mangle of dying flesh and rotting blood covering it.

Minseok chokes on his sob, "My love."

Jongdae's cracked lips stretch into a smile, bloody and blue. "Shoot me," the words a whisper, "my heart."

Minseok's knees go weak. He falls forward, slumped in a familiar position in front of his beloved's image, except only one of them still has their appendices attached from their calf and below.

Pain blooms in Minseok's heart. "I  _ can't _ ." (He’s so tired of this, so  _ done  _ with this – why is this his lot in life?)

Jongdae breathes, and fresh blood pours from his nose along with a keening sound from his lungs. "You must be brave, my love. I can't live anymore. This version of me must go."

After three months of absolute determination to not even show a flicker of doubt, Minseok breaks. "It hurts."

"It's okay." Jongdae heaves, his breath becoming shallower by the second. "My DNA is uploaded to the server, and you'll have me back in your arms within a week. Shoot me, my love, and spare us both the pain of a torturous death."

Minseok looks at Jongdae's skin, shatters his own heart as he forces himself to look at the streaks of beatings and blisters, the black and blue and green marring Jongdae's skin, so much that the initial golden caramel is lost among them.

Minseok sobs as he lifts his firearm and points it at the love of his life.

Jongdae smiles as if his soul is breaking. "Quickly now, no tears."

The  _ bang!  _ of the bullet reverberates around the concrete chamber along with Minseok's wails.

  
  


He has done this countless times before, mercy killing their infiltrants – the clones made from his dead husband's image, more often than not. Just when Minseok believes it'll get better, that his love will prevail, each one of those clones crack open his heart in a new wound, the pain brighter and more damning than ever before.

When they were given the initial offer, it sounded so simple, so easy. Practically a promise of immortality, an eternity for them to be with each other, even beyond their death – just some pesky obstacles to get through.

But somewhere along the line, the obstacles have become the path they must walk. Passing through them chips away their sanity, little bit by little bit, until their love for each other starts to feel more like a burden than a strength. Long ago, they promised to die for each other – and now, they’re slowly giving up the hope to live for one another.

They have no choice but to keep going now, keep climbing through those thorns until one day they just can't, breaking forever, their bones shattering on asphalt, blood forever spilling on the long-wilted roses.

  
  


Even as Minseok climbs back through the hatch and pours petrol down to the concrete dome, his eyes shine with leftover tears.

And when another soldier comes forward to throw in a fireball and a grenade, Minseok imagines jumping down and embracing the remnants of the image of his love one last time as splinters puncture his own frame.

It can't hurt more than the pain blooming in his heart, right?

  
  


It takes a week for them to get back to their base, and Minseok finds Jongdae-W73 waiting for him in their camp. He hasn't been Awoken for long, his data chip uploaded right after Jongdae-W72's heart stopped sending the signal back here on their base. The data chip has provided him with all knowledge of his past fallen selves, but his heart provides him with the emotions. So when Minseok buries his head in Jongdae's neck with a shuddered sob, Jongdae embraces him with misty eyes and trembling lips.

Their missions await them, but there's always a lull between the waves of war, and both of them have some time to themselves to just be with each other, pouring sorrowful love and affection through the cracks of their souls, hoping to fill the bottomless pits their hearts have become.

They don't have much time together, a couple of weeks at best before Jongdae needs to leave for his suicide mission, and Minseok has to prepare for the next surge of this everlasting war.

They have a couple of weeks to play make-believe in their sorrow, only a couple of weeks of this pretend-happiness wrapped up in tears, until inevitably they are pried apart for another half a year.

One day, maybe they'll decide their last heartbreak to be just that and they'll take themselves out of the equation, along with both their DNA from the vexing lab, and take their chances with the faith of the afterlife.

Ironic, given how both of them rejected god during their early years, along with fate, believing that the future will be what they make of it. Now, they believe in a higher being. Not a god perhaps, but someone who's just as mighty.

How else could they go through this hell again and again if not for a curse?

Soon, too soon, they are called to the briefing room, a new general with an updated and upgraded version of plans and weapons  _ that's sure to succeed. _ Among the scientists and labcoats and whatnots, they are the only two people who know these upgraded versions will only be good for the death of their soldiers and themselves. But they're only two people, and their voices get lost in the cheer of battle hungry politics.

They prepare once more to say goodbye to each other one last time.

Until they meet again in the surge of war, more bloody and broken than before.

  
  



End file.
